The Conspirators
by The Cheshire Cheese
Summary: (AU) The spies and traitors aboard Chakotay's Maquis ship discover each other. Seska, Tuvok, Paris and others plot to sabotage the upcoming mission and deliver Chakotay to the Federation. But conflicting agendas and changing goals may unravel the plan. And Chakotay, in the midst of betrayal, finds himself with some of the most unlikely allies imaginable.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is set in a universe where Tom Paris was** _ **not**_ **captured on his first assignment with the Maquis. Through some "butterfly affect" or another, this lead to the Maquis ship** _ **not**_ **getting snatched by the Caretaker, which in turn, stopped Voyager from getting Care-taken.**

 **There is nothing profound about this story. It is being written for shits and giggles.**

 **Reminder: In "Caretaker," Chakotay's ship (presumably) suffered casualties just as Voyager did. The Val Jean probably had a doctor, and some other officers that were killed, just like Voyager's Stadi, Commander Cavit, etc. So if you see one or two unfamiliar characters in this story, that's why; they're probably people who would have died in the Caretaker incident.**

 **I don't own "Star Trek: Voyager."**

* * *

 _Come alone_.

Chakotay never liked those orders, always paranoid he was walking into a trap, but he obeyed them. The Maquis relied heavily on secrecy. And the endless possibility of spies or surveillances sometimes necessitated meetings between leaders without anyone but the most trusted guards, if that. Chakotay usually at least brought his best gunner Ayala. But this time Michael Eddington and Ro Laren were insistent that he meet in the asteroid alone.

"Bring her around slowly Paris," Chakotay said quietly.

"I've landed a Maquis raider in an asteroid before, Chief," Tom replied irritably.

The pilot's loose, mismatched clothing, tousled hair and five-o'clock-shadow seemed to perfectly convey what set him apart from the more passionate fighters around him, dressed for mobility adn with their hair out of the way.

"I know that," Chakotay matched Paris's irritation, "I've just noticed your piloting tends to get more reckless when certain crewmembers are in the cockpit." He made sure to put just a slight emphasis on the first syllable of the last word.

From her engineering station, Torres glanced at Paris as if looking at some kind of putrid household pest that had suddenly crawled into the helm seat. Of all people onboard, Torres had the least patience with Paris, and Chakotay was sure that was why Paris made a special effort to either impress her or push her buttons. Which in turn pushed Chakotay's buttons.

"Aaalright," Tom said, his attention back on the helm. "In we go…"

It wasn't strictly speaking an asteroid. Tom was bringing the Val Jean into one of the rock formations in the thick icy rings of a sapphire gas giant. This planet was one of the Maquis' bases, with ships parked at intervals around—well, _inside_ —the rings. Several of the rocks and ice-chunks were rigged with force-fields and life support, allowing one to walk through them without an environmental suit, as if they were just icy caves on an M-class planetoid.

"Ready for transport," B'Elanna reported. "Be careful, Chakotay."

"Always," Chakotay replied. "Oh, and Tom, the next time you call me 'Chief,' I'm breaking your nose. This is your only warning."

Without turning to face him, Tom said casually, "Gotcha."

The place Chakotay materialized could easily have been mistaken for a Terran cave, with the stars outside simply being those of a clear night sky. Once an avid paleontology geek, Chakotay indulged in running his hand along the "cave" wall, feeling the cool the rock interlaid with ice. One couldn't see the force field through the holes in the asteroid, but from a certain angle you could see the rolling clouds of the gas giant. A beautiful view. An acceptable last view, Chakotay decided, should his most paranoid fears prove true and this meeting was a trap.

At the sound of footsteps, his hand went instinctively to the phaser on his belt. But as expected, it was only his arranged contacts, Captain Michael Eddington and Commander Ro Laren. In her snug but modest purple garments, and her elegant Bajoran earring, Ro almost gave the impression of a businesswoman rather than a military leader. Eddington, in his long leather jacket, reminded Chakotay of a heroic character from _Les Miserables_. Chakotay normally admired both leaders in their own way. He'd once envied the passion and heroism with which Eddington led the Maquis; but recently, that passion had begun to reach extremes that frightened Chakotay. Ro, meanwhile, reminded him oddly of an older, more mature Seska, almost representing what he hoped to help craft his protégé and sometimes lover into becoming. He hoped to god the Bajoran still retained the objectivity he admired in her, and might coax Eddington to see reason.

"I take it there's a change in the mission," Chakotay said, relaxing his hand.

"If the mission even goes through," Ro replied wearily.

"It _has_ to." Eddington snapped.

"So what's the holdup?" Chakotay asked. "Our superiors finally considered that nuclear warfare might not be in the Maquis' best interests?"

Ro closed her eyes slowly and sighed. Chakotay had been making his feelings on his upcoming mission clear for weeks. He knew she privately agreed with him, and Ro was also outspoken like he was, so he wasn't certain what _he_ was saying that she found disagreeable.

Eddington's catlike eyes met his. "This is _war_ , Chakotay."

"That's right, war. Not a massacre. You want to stoop to the Cardassians' level—"

"We want you to steal a weapon the Cardassians would use against _our_ civilians." Eddington fired. "And the Federation's, and the Bajorans' and Klingons' and god knows who else."

"And then use it against the Cardassian's. _Civilians_."

Pinching her ridged nose, Ro said over the arguing men, "There's a spy aboard the Val Jean!"

Chakotay froze, then shot her a look. "How do you know?"

" _We_ have a spy." Eddington smiled, almost smugly. "Several of them, amongst the Federation. And a few with the Cardassians. This one's serving aboard a Federation ship called Voyager. Goes by the codename Ku."

Chakotay knew, from Seska, that "Ku" was the Bajoran word for "bat." Or the universal word for a Bajoran bat. He could never keep the terms for alien animals straight.

Ro sighed. "Ku informs us that Captain Janeway has an officer undercover aboard your ship. He doesn't know the species or gender or how long they've been aboard, but Ku wagers the spy's been with you for over a year."

Chakotay knew that Ro was only using the pronoun "he" as standard for undercover agents; there was a fifty-fifty chance that Ku was a "she." Turning the information over, Chakotay soon felt his blood fire up.

"So, it's a _former Starfleet officer_ …"

"You have someone in mind Commander?" Eddington asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I just might."

Ro grimaced. "Don't tell me; Paris."

Chakotay locked eyes with her and nodded. "He was never dedicated to our cause. He's the son of a Starfleet _admiral_."

"Sounds like wishful thinking, Commander," the Bajoran said. "No offense. But if Captain Janeway knows what she's doing, she'll have her spy blend in a little better, and probably cozying up to you."

Chakotay swallowed. A good portion of his officers besides Paris were—supposedly—former Starfleet officers. Torres, Ayala, Tuvok, Hogan, Th'lor … he also recalled that his stellar cartographer, Megan Delaney, had a twin sister in Starfleet. And she'd been very close to her twin, before joining the Maquis. Of course, if Captain Runway or whatever her name was knew what she was doing, she'd likely assign her spy to have a back-story completely unrelated to Starfleet. The Bajorans flashed through his mind. Seska? _No_. Seska's venom against Cardassians and spunk for the Maqius movement was far too genuine. And so was B'Elanna's…but then again, being half-Klingon sure would give the latter a hand in method acting…

Ro sighed deeply. "Well the question now is, how do we proceed with your mission, with a Federation spy among you."

"Why the hell _would_ we proceed?" Chakotay asked. "Give the mission to someone who doesn't have a spy onboard!"

"Not possible." Eddington shook his head grimly. "You're crew already has the clearance to enter that fortress undetected. It would take months to get another crew prepared for that, and that's time we don't have. The Ferengi scientist will be delivering that weapon to the Cardassians in four days."

Chakotay's jaw clenched. It was true, the Maquis had spent months rewiring his crew biologically to pass undetected through the Ferengi scientist's unique home security system. It had been a highly technical and complex process that Chakotay didn't fully understand—something about altering the genetics at a microscopic level to trick the Ferengi's one-of-a-kind surveillance program into thinking they were members of his species. The effect would wear off in a few months, and his crew's DNA would return to normal. By which time the mission would be complete…and Eddington's radical plans possibly being carried out.

Chakotay shook his head. "The spy probably has Voyager set to be waiting for us right when we exit the Ferengi's house for the robbery."

"That's exactly what Ku figures," Ro agreed. "He says that Voyager knows about your heist. Their plan is to be waiting for you outside Dr. Bork's home, right after you complete the robbery. See, Starfleet doesn't want the Cardassians to have the Omega Molecule any more than we do, so Janeway's going to let you do the stealing for her, and then her spy will deliver your crew and the molecule into her waiting hands."

"Then," Chakotay nodded slowly, "we need only change our _getaway_ plan—without letting the spy find out." He sighed, passing his hand over his face.

"What matters," Eddington said, "is getting that molecule."

It took a moment for Chakotay to decipher what Eddington was telling him. When he did, he gave his superior a sharp, angry look. "You're asking me to abandon my crew? Take off with the molecule myself, and let them—"

"You're the only one we're sure isn't the spy," Eddington pressed.

"How do you know? _I_ have a history with Starfleet after all. Wouldn't it be brilliant?" Chakotay smiled sarcastically. "The spy aboard Chakotay's ship is Chakotay."

"Ku says you were already a prominent figure in the Maquis when the spy was assigned to your ship." Eddington explained. "So you're in the clear, Commander."

So it was someone who joined after Chakotay had made a name for himself. That described about half the Val Jean's crew.

"Here's my idea," Ro's hand came up diplomatically. "Change up the _entrance_ plan. Separate your team into subunits, and only give each group as much information as they need to complete their task. But make them _think_ that the getaway point is still the same, then at the last minute during the mission, change your mind and give them new coordinates."

Chakotay gave it some thought, then nodded. "Well then, let's get started forming the new game-plan. I have a feeling this is going to be complicated."

* * *

The Val Jean's tiny engine room was sparsely populated tonight, the four or five engineers illuminated by the blue glow of the stout warp core. B'Elanna Torres had begun to zone, now staring out the tiny square window at the rolling clouds of the gas giant. That was one advantage of an oddly shaped ship like the Val Jean; windows in Engineering. Torres wasn't the only one distracted. Tom watched the half-Klingon from behind, his eyes traveling her short brunette hair to her tall red boots.

Torres' best friend Seska glanced at Tom from her work station near the wall, then rolled her eyes back down to her console. Only Seska and Tom themselves understood the full meaning of that look, and Tom felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a silent snicker. Things had definitely gotten interesting between him and Seska, and they were about to become a _lot_ more interesting. But that could wait, just for a little bit.

Tom joined Torres at the window. She didn't look over at him, but seemed to sense someone was standing next to her. Her dark eyes traveling the aquamarine clouds, she muttered, "It reminds me of the ocean on Quo'nos."

Matching her quiet tone, Tom offered, "I hear the Klingon oceans are like giant hot springs. Popular spot for skinny dipping."

Torres threw him a look of wearied irritation. "Oh, it's you."

"Don't take it personally Torres," Seska sneered. "You're just the only woman onboard Paris hasn't slept with yet."

After a silence, Torres said flatly, "Thanks for telling me that, Seska."

The "Bajoran" woman's eyes bulged, realizing her embarrassing mistake. Tom laughed, at both women's reactions. "Relax Torres," he assured B'Elanna. "There's nothing between us. We both did it to spite Chakotay, didn't we Seska."

Seska wrinkled her nose, the Bajoran ridges scrunching up like an accordion, and she changed the subject. "I don't like these meetings where he has to show up alone. What if it's a Cardassian trap?"

Tom felt his teeth grit together, as he resisted the strong urge to respond to that statement. _Not yet, Tom_. _Don't let the bitch know you're onto her, not till the opportune moment…_

B'Elanna turned away from the window. "I'm not sure if you've noticed Seska, but the Maquis operate largely in secrecy."

Tom's chest tightened at the sight of the two "best friends" talking so casually. B'Elanna was clueless. Of course, Tom had been clueless too, until four nights ago. He pretended to start work on a diagnostic, glancing over that the two women every now and again.

The stark contrast between the two best friends' fashion intrigued Tom. B'Elanna looked like a space cowgirl, in her leather vest and knee-high boots. Sexy as hell, not that it was a good idea to tell her that. Actually, he told her that about three times a day, and would probably receive three black eyes for it if not for his improving skills at dodging. Seska looked like she was trying to turn the Maquis into a new runway fashion, with the large circular belt and flamboyant vest over a vibrant purple undershirt. That outfit had been a bitch to remove the night before, with the complicated belt and all those layers. And hardly worth it. What the hell did Chakotay see in that broad, anyway? Her "spirituality," probably. And her being from an oppressed people like himself. Tom's insides rolled again, as he realized he was actually pitying his commanding officer, much as he disliked him.

"I'm just saying," B'Elanna continued, before realizing that Seska was now concentrating hard on her work at her console. "Never mind, I see you're busy."

"Sorry," Seska said quietly. "I'm just trying to—"

" _Seska!_ "

B'Elanna suddenly yanked the other woman away from the console and tossed her to the floor, just before a plasma burst emitted from her console. The few others in the engine room looked over sharply.

"That could've killed you!" B'Elanna panted.

Visibly shaking, Seska pushed herself up from the floor, staring at the console. Feeling her shoulder, she mumbled, "Thanks for saving my life Torres, but I think you broke something."

B'Elanna smiled. "I'm sure with therapy you'll learn to forgive me. Come on, let's get you to Sickbay."

Tom watched B'Elanna lead her "friend" out of the engine room, his mind speeding like an intrepid cruiser on full throttle. Now he was _really_ curious.

He pretended to work for a few more minutes, before excusing himself from the engine room. Resisting the urge to follow B'Elanna and Seska, he headed instead to the galley. The Val Jean's mess hall wasn't much bigger than the engine room, offering the same metallic tiled floor, low ceiling, and dim lighting. Tom wasn't surprised to find a sizable crowd at this hour; a lot of Chakotay's soldiers took their dinner late, due to busy schedules. Chell was serving his usual slop at the counter. Tom got into line behind Mariah Henley, sporting her usual red headscarf. Henley gave Tom a disdainful look as the Bolian chef filled her bowl with a pale purple glop. Chell on the other hand was one of the few people who acted civilly towards Tom.

"What'll it be Paris," the Bolian asked. "Slop, or emergency rations?"

"If we can spare it, how about a little bit of both." Tom replied. "I like to dip my ration bars in your gruel and pretend it's fries with ketchup."

As Chell filled his bowl, Tom scanned the cramped little galley. As fortune would have it, the crewmember he was hoping to run into was right there. Tuvok sat in a far corner of the small galley, silently eating Chell's slop. The sight of Tuvok always made Tom smile inwardly, with the way the Vulcan's gourd-colored Maquis uniform clashed with his bland personality. Tom thanked Chell, and made a beeline for Tuvok's table.

"Hey, Tuvok," Tom took a seat across from the Val Jean's tactical expert. "Mind if I join you?"

With mild acknowledgement, Tuvok replied, "Good evening, Mr. Paris."

"Was that a 'hello' or 'goodbye?'" Tom asked, dunking his ration bar into his bowl periwinkle slime.

"Whichever you prefer," the Vulcan's eyes left Tom, as he resumed eating Chell's gruel.

Tom pursed his lips and nodded. After a moment he asked casually, "How you been Tuvok?"

"Well." The Vulcan replied. "And you?"

Tom blew through his lips. "Better than Seska! She was working at a console in engineering just a few minutes ago, and a plasma burst came out of nowhere! Almost killed her. I'm not sure if she was more upset about almost dying, or not finishing her work; whatever she was doing seemed pretty damn important to her."

Tuvok's dark eyes crept back up to Tom's face, lingering just long enough for Tom to be sure that it wasn't his imagination.

"I hope she makes a full recovery," Tuvok finally said.

"Meee too," Tom agreed, with complete honestly.

* * *

Seska fought to keep her breaths calm and regulated as the ship's physician, an Orion male named Th'lor, healed her broken arm. This body felt so small, so light and fragile. Her Bajoran hand looked tiny and pale in the doctor's large green one. Seska could remember a time when she'd had a fetish for Orions, Bolians, Andorians, and any species with oddly colored skin. That was back when she was a teenager. Voicing such desires got mixed results from adults. Her father feared she would be ostracized for desiring non-Cardassians, should anyone find out. Her mother on the other hand congratulated her daughter for having the tastes of a conqueror, like so many Cardassian males.

In any case, Seska's tastes had changed radically over the years. But Seska herself hadn't. She was the same as she'd been all her life; feisty and vicious, with the mind of a brilliant engineer, someone who strove to impress her superiors while at the same time always making sure she got what she wanted. And not a half-bad actress or liar either. No surprise she'd grown up to be a spy. Her career for the Obsidian Order had begun during the last few years of the Bajoran occupation, and then continued into the Maqius. She hadn't even needed to change her name, just shorten it.

"You're good to go," the green doctor said. "It's getting late. Best get yourself some sleep."

B'Elanna returned to Engineering, while Seska headed for the quarters the two women shared. The Val Jean had cramped, dimly lit halls that Seska had grown used to. On the way she squeezed past Marina Jor, who avoided her eye like the plague. Seska hated passing the half-Betazoid; telepaths of any kind were a pain for even the best-trained spy. But Jor was no Deanna Troi, and could only pick up the barest of emotions. Sensing that Seska was stressed, pleased or aggravated didn't make her stand out any more than the others onboard. But even so, the petite woman had learned not to question Seska with any of her usual "are you okay?" or "is everything alright?"

Seska finally found her way to her quarters. B'Elanna's side was a mess as usual, a debris field of rumpled clothing, gutted engineering equipment, and a stuffed targ she'd never admit to sleeping with. After ensuring the door was locked and sound from the room was muted, Seska dug out the tiny communicator she kept hidden under her mattress. It was a brown, hexagonal disc, about the size of an early Federation PADD. When she activated the encoded sequence, it would become a tiny monitor, allowing her to speak face-to-face with her superiors. But before her finger even touched the first button, a low voice made her freeze.

"Your superiors will no doubt be displeased by your failure to kill me."

Seska turned sharply and saw Tuvok sitting in the dark corner, pointing a phaser at her.

"What the hell are you talking about," Seska tried, lamely.

"I have been anticipating an 'accidental' power surge in any console I touch for some time now. That is why I installed a program of my own into the ship. It activates at my touch. Should anyone onboard attempt to send a man-made power surge to any station I'm operating, my program will counter said surge, sending it back to the perpetrator."

The Cardassian's jaw tightened. "How did you know."

"For the last several weeks, I have been observing not only the Maquis, but the Cardassian spy amongst Chakotay's ship. Vulcan telepathy is limited, but under the right circumstances, very useful."

Seska's eyes slowly grew wide. "That day I was rendered unconscious on Alora Prime!" she spat. "You mind-melded me in my sleep!"

"Mind-meld is not an accurate term in this instance. I performed a touch that allowed me a glimpse into your recent thoughts. And that was how I learned of your conversations with your superiors, and your plans to kill me. I am curious," Tuvok raised an eyebrow, "why you did not seek me out as an ally."

Seska grinned bitterly. "I know how you Starfleets are. My mission is _serious_ , and I _can't_ have it slowed down by Federation softness."

"Alternatively," Tuvok suggested, his phaser still pointed threateningly at Seska, "The Cardassians are undergoing activities that they do not want their Federation allies to be made aware of."

"What _I_ wanna know," the new voice made both Seska and Tuvok jump.

Seska searched the room frantically, while Tuvok's heavy-lidded eyes swept the area with startled alertness, until both gazes finally landed on a spot in the ceiling. Tom Paris grinned and waved. He'd somehow removed a tile without either of them hearing or noticing. Actually, he'd probably done it before Seska or Tuvok had entered the room. Toms loose Maquis clothes hung through the square in the ceiling, as he lazily stared at them over folded arms. Like Tuvok, he held a phaser in one hand, which he wiggled a few times just to make sure they both noticed. Tom spent the next moment or two taking in their shock with amusement, before continuing.

Tom began again, "What I wanna— _ah, ah, ah_ ," he wagged his phaser at Seska, who'd been reaching for her own. "What _I_ wanna know is, what are your real names?"

Slowly rising to a stance, Tuvok replied, "I have not altered my name for this assignment."

Seska shrugged. "Olseska. Seska was my nickname growing up anyway. And by a happy coincidence, there's a well-known river on Bajor called Seska. Pretty, exotic name that a lonely Bajoran orphan might chose for herself."

Tom just stared at them both under a contorted brow. "So let me get this straight. You _didn't. Change. Your names. For an undercover mission?_ "

"A convincing performance is crucial," Seska said, like it should be obvious. "If we picked fake names we'd have to learn how to react to them on instinct."

"And for what organization," Tuvok asked Tom, "are you working?"

"Lady Luck," Tom carefully slid out of the ceiling, and landed on the soft pile of B'Elanna's clothes. He picked up her stuffed targ to examine in for a second, before discarding it and continuing. "My loyalties aren't hidden. I'm here to pay my bar bills. That's why I've decided to blackmail you both."

"You're even stupider than I thought." Seska's phaser came out.

But Tuvok's phaser was suddenly an inch from Seska's head. "Do not move, Seska. Or I _will_ fire." Turning to Tom, Tuvok said, "I'm curious Mr. Paris,"

"How did I find out about you two?" Tom shifted, resting his hands on his knees, phaser now pointed at Seska. "Well Seska I found out about last week." He saw her eyes widen threateningly under her fierce eyebrows. "I wonder how many times poor clueless Chakotay heard you mumble 'tescalan' in your sleep, and thought you were saying the Bajoran phrase for 'home decorating.'"

Tuvok stared at Tom. "What _does_ 'tescalan' mean?"

"If I remember my medical course at the Academy correctly, 'Tescalan' is a Cardassian medication used to treat Cardassian mental disorders. Of course this dinky third-rate ship doesn't have that in its database for me to double-check. But Seska had her hypospray in her pocket, so I was able to check _that_ while she was asleep."

Seska whispered, "You son of a bitch."

"As for you Tuvok," Tom continued, ignoring her, "I just noticed Seska seemed particularly interested in you, and got suspicious. Earlier tonight, I had my answer, in the mess hall."

"Most clever," Tuvok admitted. "I have clearly underestimated you, Mr. Paris. You would be a formidable ally."

Tom's face scrunched up in confusion. "For?"

"Assisting me in my mission."

Tom slowly nodded. "Ah. Helping you…what…gather intel on the Maquis?"

"And disrupt this upcoming mission." Tuvok explained. "And ensure that the Federation starship Voyager is able to capture Chakotay and his crew."

Tom thought it over. He'd be a hero among Starfleet. He might get pardoned. His name might be cleared, even among his judgmental family. The downside was that he'd been starting to grow fond of some of the Maquis, especially Torres; but then again, all of their odds of survival would skyrocket in a Federation prison than out here fighting Cardassians. Tom had no faith, by now, that the Maquis would succeed, and frankly, had spent the last year subconsciously thinking he was joining them on a long, slow-moving, glamorous suicide mission.

"I can do that," Tom decided, nodding.

Seska smiled. "You can try, but the thing is, Voyager's not the only ship that'll be waiting for the Val Jean. My superior is going to have an entire ambush prepared."

"Indeed," Tuvok said. "Captain Janeway and I have already discussed this possibility, and have maneuvers planned. Chakotay and his crew, along with the weapon, will go to the Federation."

"And what good would that do?" Seska demanded. "You'd have the secret weapon and you'd have Chakotay's crew, but what happens from there? Chakotay and the others sit in some resort you people call a 'penal colony,' and the weapon sits in Federation storage, while the war out here rages on! The Maquis have to be defeated!"

"That's your opinion," Tom said, folding his arms.

"Don't tell me you've gone native, Tom."

Tom flinched inwardly at Seska's liberal use of his first name. Aboard the Val Jean, first names were heard only amongst close friends, and certainly Seska had no reason to use Tom's (their recent night together being the exception in their relationship, rather than the rule).

"Perish the thought," Tom said sarcastically. "I couldn't care less about the Maquis and their agenda. I guess I'm just not that sympathetic to the Cardassians either."

"If I don't deliver this weapon and this crew to my superiors—"

"Then Mr. Paris and I will protect you," Tuvok said. "You will not succeed against two of us, Seska. But the three of us together can accomplish this goal. And our 'Federation softness,' as you put it, will ensure that you remain safe. I will leave it to you to weigh the odds of each option."

Seska stood in the middle of the room, her hand clenched tightly around her phaser, the other balled into a painful looking fist.

"Two against one," Tom said quietly. "I do believe we have the controlling vote."

Seska angrily kicked B'Elanna's stuffed Targ across the floor. Finally, after a few more seconds of brooding, she mumbled, "We're going to need more than just three people to pull this off."

Tuvok cocked an eyebrow. "Was there someone you had in mind?"

"Come on Tuvok," Seska sheathed her phaser. "You've been observing this crew for almost two years now. You know not everyone on this ship is as dedicated to the Maquis cause as Chakotay is."

Tuvok gave her a long look.

Tom snapped his fingers. "Jonas! Mike Jonas." The image of Jonas's buck-toothed flashed through Tom's mind, one of the closest things he had to a friend onboard. "He's outright told me he's as much of a self-serving coward as me, just better at hiding it. He was pressured into joining the Maquis because the rest of his family was so dedicated, but by now I think he's getting sick of it."

"If his family is so dedicated, he may be reluctant to betray them," Tuvok warned.

"Openly," Tom corrected. "But if no one knew…" he shrugged. "It was just a suggestion. Who else did you have in mind, Seska?"

Seska's lip curled slowly. "How about Suder?"

* * *

 **A/N: I'm trying to get better at staying on top of my fanfics. This one is already half finished, and will be a shortie (four or five chapters). I'll try to update at least once every few days.**

 **If you like Maquis-centered fics, I have a couple to recommend:**

" **What We Live For," by JessiKnight: An AU where Janeway's sister is in the Maquis. Chasing her sister, Janeway may end up joining in her cause. Meanwhile, B'Elanna thinks she's found love with Seska and, well, you can probably guess the rest. Only two chapters are up so far, but it's well written, and I can say from experience that JessiKnight does a great job at expanding on "Voyager" characters and alien races.**

" **Wayward Sons," by Admiral Byzantium: An AU where Gul Evek's ship gets Caretaken with Voyager and the Val Jean. Janeway and Chakotay, who of course were both shaped by bad experiences with Cardassians, are both confronted with the Cardassian gul. Chakotay is surprised to find that Evek isn't quite the monster he initially takes him for, and receives some pleasantly surprising news from the gul regarding the individuals who murdered his family. Very bittersweet story, that shows the Maquis/Federation/Cardassian conflict from all angles. Also contains some great moments for B'Elanna and Harry.**

 **Finally, I beg you all to check out "Renegades," the highly ambitious fan-film that stars a handful of real "Star Trek" actors reprising their roles. You'll see Tuvok, Pavel Chekov, Icheb, Dr. Zimmerman, and Admiral Paris, along with some kickass new characters including a snarky Betazoid, an Andorian mind-hacker, a Romulan female who likes snapping necks, and the outcast daughter of Khan. Icheb fans especially should check it out; he's changed quite a bit since he stepped off Voyager! The visuals are cheap but unique, very different than "Star Trek's" usual style. It reminds me of "Lexx" or "Farscape."**

 **Next chapter for this turkey will be up soon, possibly tonight.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Why are you here reading my fan-fiction instead of watching "Renegades?"**

 **Well anyway, I don't own "Star Trek: Voyager." (Or "Reservoir Dogs." T'he he.)**

* * *

Chakotay met with his team in a cramped storage room in the underbelly of the Val Jean. He'd chosen people who were the best among the crew at their jobs. People he'd once trusted. Now he watched his men and women gather in the cargo bay, sickeningly wondering who the Federation spy was. He wanted desperately to think it was Paris. Though the young man had proven himself a trustworthy enough soldier and madly talented pilot, Chakotay knew Paris still wasn't dedicated to the cause. But as Ro had pointed out, it would just be too obvious. Unless that was the whole point—no one suspecting the one guy who made his distain for the movement clear every day…

Chakotay surveyed the rest of his crew as they poured into the room. B'Elanna Torres, who had become something of a surrogate little sister to him, was taking a seat on a crate, folding her arms and legs and shaking out her short dark hair. Was her raging dedication to the Maquis cause an act, helped by her natural Klingon spunk? Miguel Ayala, his best gunner, was perched on a tall pile of crates, examining a loose thread in the bulky vest he always wore. Ayala had joined after his wife was killed in a Cardassian attack, and his youngest son lost a leg…supposedly. Was the man's silent and stoic nature simply a convenient cover, to explain away his lack of reaction to events that had never happened? Actually, the same excuse might apply to the Vulcans onboard, Tuvok, T'Vora, Sarlak…

Seska, Chakotay's on and off lover, was taking a seat next to Torres. Could she have been bought by Starfleet, with the promise of a new life with them, and maybe help for her people? What about Marina Jor, settling on a long box next to her Bajoran lover Tabor. People often commented that the half-Betazoid seemed surprisingly soft for a Maquis. So did Michael Jonas, and Chell. And what about Tabor, with his "personal force-field?" Was it really just luck and skill that kept the Bajoran from getting any scratches during battles? In the corner, Megan Delaney was re-lacing her black vest. Was she secretly in contact with her Starfleet twin?

The only one he was confident of was Lon Suder. The deranged Betazoid, who looked so small and harmless in his oversized leather jacket, was far too violently psychotic to be with Starfleet. Chakotay had been hesitant about allowing Suder onto this mission, but the Betazoid was by far the best at taking out guards. Obviously, though, someone would have their eye on him, to make sure he didn't get carried away.

The cargo-bay doors opened to admit the final members of the team. Mariah Henley hurried in, wearing her favorite bright red head scarf, followed by T'Vora, the tall pale Vulcan looking ghostly as ever in her dark brown and indigo fighting colors.

"Alright," Chakotay placed his hands on his hips, "Let's get started." His dark eyes scanned his team, scattered around the pile of crates. "Our mission's the same. We're going to the home of a Ferengi scientist, Dr. Bork, and steal the weapon he's planning to sell to the Cardassians. But the game plan has changed a bit."

"Why?" asked Seska.

"Because my superiors said so, and it's not my job to question them," Chakotay answered in a warning tone. "Now, instead of all going in as one group, we're going to separate into subunits and enter the house from different locations. You'll still have the same jobs, but you'll keep to the locations of the house needed to complete them. Since Bork's manor is an enormous, heavily-guarded maze, each unit will have one engineer, one guard and one navigator. Tom, we're still going to be relying on your piloting skills to get us through that moon's atmosphere, undamaged and undetected by Bork."

"Aye sir," Tom replied.

"And Jor," Chakotay glanced at the half-Betazoid. "I know you can only sense so much, but we'll be relying on your empathic abilities to know if anyone in Bork's house is onto us."

The small brunette woman nodded. "I'll do my best sir."

"Delaney,"

The curly-haired stellar cartographer looked excited. "I'm a master at navigating through mazes, sir. I won't let you down."

"Good. My superiors want me personally to be the one to handle the molecule when we reach it. We'll communicate through our badges."

Chakotay's crew wore small communicators hidden under their clothing, similar to those in Starfleet, but sporting the fanning geometric symbol of the Maquis.

Tabor frowned. "But I thought you said before that we would only be able to disrupt the visual and genetic surveillance in Bork's house. The audio will still be up. If we have to talk to each other—"

"—we'll be talking in codes." Chakotay finished. "And under no circumstances is anyone to use anyone else's real name, or their own. I'll be assigning you code names, at random." He pointed at Tuvok. "Alpha." His finger moved to B'Elanna. "Beta," then to Ayala, "Gamma," then Jor, "Ome—"

"Oh come on," Tom scoffed loudly from his high crate in the back of the room. "How many times in our lives will we get to be given code names by a real Indian, and we don't even get Indian spirit names?"

The room fell silent. B'Elanna threw Paris an angry glare. Seska was slowly closing her eyes and Paris's stupidity. A few others, like Jor, Henley and Jonas, looked terrified that Chakotay was about to start shouting or punch someone. But the commander wasn't feeling angry. Although Paris's racist jab had irritated him as usual, Chakotay decide this was an idea he could work with.

Lifting a hand diplomatically, Chakotay offered, "You want…Indian animal names, instead?"

Several crewmembers quickly began to shake their heads. But then Henley stopped, seemingly giving it some thought, and began to slowly nod. Jonas followed her. Chell began nodded eagerly like an idiot, while Jor just bit her lip.

"I can do animal names," Chakotay brought his hand to his mouth, giving it some thought. Then he pointed to Jor. "Hummingbird." The half-Betazoid seemed pleasantly surprised by this name. Pointing to Ayala, he said, "Badger." Then Tabor, "Panther." Moving on to B'Elanna, he said, "Tribble." The half-Klingon's face fell into a look of disdainful umbrage. Fighting not to laugh, Chakotay moved on to Seska. "Fox." Then Tuvok, "Rabbit." T'Vora became "Blackhawk," and Henley "California Mountain Snake." He gestured to Jonas, staring up at Chakotay with his large-toothed mouth half opened, and made him "Cricket." Then to Chell, "Giraffe." The humans in the room all made a variety of faces, but the Bolian of course was clueless. Gesturing to Suder, he said, "Flying Squirrel." Finally, pointing to Tom Pairs, he finished, "Slug."

Tom's face contorted. "Why am I 'Slug?'"

B'Elanna answered over folded arms, "Because you only act slimy on the outside, and inside, we all know you're a big softie."

Amidst the snickers, Tom said, throwing up a hand, "What about…Salamander? I'll be a salamander."

"You're not even faintly like a salamander," Chakotay said, all too happy to be the one annoying Tom for a change.

Tom continued to stare at Chakotay in disbelief.

"Wanna be 'Tribble?'" B'Elanna offered. "I'll trade with you."

"No one's trading," Chakotay said quickly.

"Why can't we pick our own names?" Suder asked quietly. "I don't know what flyin' squirrels are like on Earth, but on Betazoid they're fuckin' ugly little things…"

"Yeah," Jonas added, "I don't think I wanna be Cricket. Can I change mine to dalma—"

" _No_." Chakotay shook his head. "No. My people have a legend about what happened when the elders tried to let people pick their own spirit names. Everyone's fighting over who gets to be the wolf. _I pick the names._ "

"I take it _you're_ going to be the wolf?" B'Elanna sighed.

Chakotay hadn't thought of his own name, but shrugged. "Good as any."

B'Elanna eyed him, as if trying to decide if the name was suitable. "Timber Wolf," she corrected.

"Fine, I'm Timber Wolf."

"Give yourself the best name," Tom scoffed.

"You wana pilot for this mission or not Paris?"

Tom sighed.

"Okay." Chakotay placed his hands back on his hips. "Now let's get started on the details."

* * *

"He's onto us," Seska hissed.

She, Tom and Tuvok had locked themselves in one of the Val Jean's single-stalled washrooms, to discuss their plan. With them were their two new allies, Michael Jonas and Lon Suder. Jonas stood against the wall, with one hand in the pocket of his loudly striped vest. Though the engineer's outfit was the same as most of the Maquis, his wide, worried eyes, bucked teeth, and shifty demeanor gave his wardrobe the impression of a science teacher who'd put on some boots to go wading through the mud looking for bacteria samples. Suder sat perched on the counter near to the sink, looking like a raven in his oversized black jacket, watching the other four with large, black Betazoid eyes.

Tuvok folded his arms, thinking over what Seska had just said. "If Chakotay was aware of us specifically, he would not have included us in that discussion. Though his change of plan indicates he is aware of a spy, or spies."

"Maybe _everyone's_ onto us," Jonas said nervously. "Maybe all that was acted by him and the others, and we'll be walking into a trap."

"Why would they go to all that trouble, instead of just phasering us?" Seska said dismissively. "Besides, Chakotay couldn't act his way out of a Cardassian riding hound's pouch. He can't even express his _real_ emotions half the time, much less—"

"Then why are you so afraid he's 'onto us?'" asked Tom.

"He was on edge, I could tell." Seska breathed heavily. "He was looking at all of us, at me, like he didn't trust us."

"If Chakotay knew that there were multiple conspirators amongst his crew," Tuvok said, "then splitting the team into subunits wouldn't solve the dilemma, as we would still be able to communicate with each other from our respective groups."

Seska paused, and her face slowly brightened. "He knows there's _a_ spy…but thinks it's a lone agent! He designed this plan to throw off a single traitor. He doesn't know there's a whole network of five of us."

Tom laughed, "I am having way too much fun with this."

"Who do I get to kill," Suder asked quietly from the sink.

The lavatory fell uncomfortably silent. Jonas cringed visibly, giving a nervous glance at the small gray-haired Betazoid.

Seska sighed. "Guess we should get started on our new game plan."

"What was the original plan?" Jonas asked curiously.

"To have Voyager—that's the Federation ship Tuvok's with—waiting for the team when they get out of Bork's house with the Omega Molecule. But with the team split into subunits and none of us knowing what part of the house Chakotay will be exiting from with the molecule, that's going to be tricky."

"Voyager can't just beam him and the molecule up?" Suder asked, baffled. "I mean after he's out of the house, and away from all the Ferengi's shielding?"

"Too much interference from the moon's atmosphere," Seska shook her head. "Bork picked a good hid-out for his lab. This is one paranoid Ferengi we're dealing with."

"Here's my idea," Tom offered. "One of us gets to the molecule ahead of Chakotay, so we have that covered. Then we lie and wait for him to show up, and when he does _you_ get him with your Vulcan nerve pinch," he thumbed over to Tuvok. "Then we alert the rest of the team, tell them Chakotay got injured by one of the Ferengi's guards or something, and he gave orders for us all to meet at yada-yada location outside the house. And then Voyager swoops by and picks them all up."

"Sounds good," Seska parked a fist on her hip. "Now we just figure out how the hell we're going to do that, without transporters, and without Chakotay or anyone else finding out."

"Well," Tom said looking between Seska and Jonas. "We've got two engineers in separate units. Maybe you two together can," he shrugged, "I don't know…come up with something?"

Seska nodded. "Jonas and I can create a disturbance in Bork's systems that'll disrupt the readings of the house layout for everyone else. Then you, Tuvok and Suder will decide to 'help out' and find a panel to work at; I'll contact you with the map of the house, showing where the molecule is. Then you'll make some excuse to leave the room, and get down there."

Tom rolled his eyes to the ceiling. " _That_ won't look suspicious."

Tuvok explained, "It may not, if Seska or Jonas specifically requests you, Suder or myself to leave our section of the house to assist them at their stations."

"This plan's giving me a headache," Jonas said, running a hand through his receding chestnut hair.

"Don't worry Mike," Tom assured the shifty engineer. "We're gonna pull this off. No one'll ever know you were involved. And I'll have my name back, and the look on Chakotay's face when I say hi to him in Voyager's brig will be priceless. I'm gonna savor that for a long time."

Seska huffed. "And I'll be an outcast among the Cardassians."

"We can help you concoct a plan to ensure your 'innocence' in failing your mission," Tuvok assured her.

Seska scoffed. "That _might've_ worked for my last boss, but Gul Tarkin isn't the forgiving sap Evek was. And he's been anticipating capturing Chakotay for a long time. It's all he seems to talk about lately."

Tom snickered. "I've heard of 'falling for the mark,' but…"

Seska made a face. "You know Paris, I can never tell when you're joking. Tarkin doesn't even _have_ a sexuality, at least not in the usual sense." Seeing Tom's confusion, she explained, "He suffered an 'injury' during the Occupation of Bajor."

Tom's eyebrows crept up. "Oookay." _Too much information._

"I had assumed," Tuvok said to Seska curiously, "that you were working for Gul Evek."

Perhaps a year earlier, Gul Evek had been the Cardassian official chasing Chakotay's ship through the badlands and across Maquis space.

Seska shook her head. "Evek was demoted for being too much of a softie. Of course, Tarkin's the other extreme. So enthusiastic he tends to lose sight of the mission." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Tuvok. "Could you maybe knock me out with the Vulcan neck pinch, so it looks like I have a real excuse for failing in my mission?"

"I can," Tuvok said.

"After we have possession of the molecule," Tom reminded them.

Jonas was shaking his head nervously. "You all lost me back at 'paranoid Fernegi.'"

"Just do what we tell you," Seska snapped. "And don't make any moves without us."

* * *

"Chakotay, what's wrong?"

B'Elanna and Chakotay had been eating in silence for almost half an hour. Chakotay glanced up at his chief engineer. One of his closest friends. And very plausible candidate for the Federation spy.

"I'm nervous about the mission," he replied finally. "I'm guessing we all are."

"We've done a dozen covert missions together. I've never seen you this withdrawn. What's the matter? Is it Seska?"

Despite efforts to keep the relationship private, half the ship knew about their commander's on-and-off romance with the Bajoran engineer. With B'Elanna being such close friends with both Seska and Chakotay, she was often their unofficial relationship counselor.

Chakotay decided to throw B'Elanna off with a half-truth, by sharing the _other_ thing that had been bothering him lately. "I don't know what my superiors are planning to do with the Omega molecule when we deliver it to them. I'm afraid of the Maquis ending up at the same level as the Cardassians."

B'Elanna seemed almost relieved, that this was what was bothering Chakotay; just his "hippie-dippy" values, as she sometimes called them.

"Chakotay, this is war. _You're_ a history buff; you know that before the Axis powers were defeated in the Second World War, Germany and Japan both had to suffer catastrophic losses."

"But that was centuries ago. We should've evolved past that."

"Well the Cardassians haven't."

Quietly Chakotay said, "I have a good mind to just beam that molecule into the nearest black hole after we have it."

"That might not be the best idea. No one knows how the Omega molecule will react to a singularity."

Chakotay sighed. "Guess this is why I'm not an engineer."

"I know it's none of my business," B'Elanna said. "But I wish you and Seska could work things out. You two are always at your best together." She continued quietly, almost speaking more to herself, "You have so much in common. Your spirituality, coming from oppressed groups, your passion for justice, your love for nature…it's like you two were made for each other."

 _Or like Seska's too good to be true_ , Chakotay thought. But then he corrected himself. No, Seska wasn't simply his "perfect match." She had her temperamental trouble, much like B'Elanna. Chakotay was often the only one who could calm her down. Her faith in her Bajoran religion often wavered, resulting in her seeking Chakotay for spiritual reassurance. The cause of their constant break-ups came largely from practicality, the passion of their relationship often interfering with their work and jeopardizing missions.

If Seska somehow was the Federation spy, Chakotay was at least confident that her history, personality, her feelings for him were genuine. And that, suddenly, made him feel so much better. Nothing had changed between him and Seska; they still loved each other, and it was only on a professional level that he couldn't trust her. When this war was over, and that unemotional type of trust was no longer a concern, then maybe they could get serious about starting a life together. Assuming he and Seska both survived the war.

"You're right, B'Elanna," he smiled. "I'm just worrying, as usual."

 _And I'll continue to, until I know whether or not I can trust you._

* * *

 **A/N: The naming scene was a shout-out to a famous scene from the movie "Reservoir Dogs." If you haven't' seen this movie and found my version amusing, I encourage you to go to You Tube and look up "reservoir dogs naming scene." Even if you're not a Tarantino fan, you might have fun watching that one scene.**

 **Raphael Sbarge, who played Michael Jonas on "Voyager," also played Dr. Archie Hopper/Jiminy Cricket on "Once Upon a Time," hence his codename. I assume I don't have to tell anyone the joke behind Tom suggesting the name "Salamander" for himself. And the names Tarkin and Bork come from me being a fan of "Star Wars" and "The Muppet Show," respectively.**


End file.
